ClogsDraco
by Beryll
Summary: A very silly DH ficlet involving clogs, trains, and parkas. Response to a challenge from ContinualVoid, and hopefully sweet and fluffly. Please R&R!


A/N: Okay, this is a challenge from my friend Paige. I won't tell you the challenge until the end, 'cause it will ruin things, but I think you'll be able to figure it out.

Draco stood on the unfamiliar street corner, peering about nervously. He clutched a big, furry parka around himself, fully aware that his bottom was sticking out and his long skinny legs were visible to the entire world. At least his feet were warm- he was wearing the silliest clogs on the planet, but they were warm. He carefully pulled his cowboy hat further over his eyes, hoping no one would recognize him while he figured out what to do, and left one hand blocking his vital parts. He turned and examined his surroundings, using one free hand to pull his coat further over his exposed bottom. Empty swings swung back and forth in a nearly nonexistent breeze, and unfamiliar trees swayed.

He stood there, mentally cursing everything and everyone, starting with the people who invented magic and ending with Harry Potter, and throwing in Ron Weasly just for good measure. He wished desperately he had his wand, or perhaps some clothing, or even a train ticket. His brain ran over his list of options, and it was very, very short: he could walk home, except he had no idea where he was; he could ask for help, except he was wearing very little clothing with no explanation; he could sit down and cry.

He opted for the latter. Choosing what appeared to be the cleanest swing of the lot, he sat and bemoaned his predicament and his cold bum. "I hate the world, I hate the world, I hate the world…" he muttered. Someone tapped him on the shoulder.

"Um, excuse me, but you're not wearing any pants. I'm pretty sure that's illegal," they said, and Draco turned around slowly, his face an uncharacteristic red. The flushed skin nearly turned purple when he saw who he was talking to.

"Potter?" he exclaimed, horrified. Harry Potter's eyes widened as he stared at the nearly nude Draco.

"Merlin, I hate the world," Draco cursed, hiding is face in one hand. The other remained in firmly in place. Harry gaped at him, words coming out in garbled strings.

"You… no clothes… how… here? What?" Draco grinned wryly.

"That's right, Potter. Glad you've got the basics." With a sigh, Draco began to do what he most hated in his entire life. He began to beg. "Potter, I am begging you. Will you please help me?" he asked, his eyes squeezed shut. Harry bit his lip and grinned slightly.

"Why the fuck should I help you? What I should do is take a picture and send it to the Daily Prophet," he replied. Draco scowled.

"If you help me, I'll tell you a secret," he wheedled. Harry snorted, but his curiosity was intrigued.

"What kind of secret?" he asked, half sarcastically. Draco grinned maliciously.

"I'll tell you who I think is the sexiest person at Hogwarts, and then I'll tell you who I fancy," he replied slyly. He flicked a bit of hair out of his face with one elegant finger, waiting for Harry's answer.

Harry was in a dilemma. This _was_ his worst enemy, and it _would_ be awfully funny to not help it at all, but it would also be very cruel. His Gryffindor instincts and his hero complex would not let him leave the helpless so cruelly. Besides, he wanted to know who Draco fancied.

"Alright, I'll help you, but only if you're very, very good," Harry finally conceded, making Draco sigh with relief. A smirk entered his lips.

"And what if I'm very, very bad?" he asked, making Harry blush.

"I'll take your coat away," Harry answered, grinning.

.-

Harry led Draco back to his uncle's house, laughing every few moments at Draco's ridiculous attire. At some point, Draco had removed the cowboy hat from his head and used it to block his particularly private parts from view. When they reached the house, Draco was glad to see there was no one else home, for the Dursleys had chosen that day to go to the fair with the Polkisses. Harry led him up to his bedroom, ignoring Draco's curious glances at everything remotely muggle, which was, in effect, everything.

Harry sat on his bed and waved a hand toward his dresser. "My clothes are in there. You can get dressed and then we'll figure out how to get you home." Draco nodded and walked over to the dilapidated bureau, rifling through its contents. As he looked, he called to Harry, "Turn and face the wall, Potter. I don't want you staring at me while I change."

Grinning, Harry obliged. "What makes you think I would do that?" Harry asked, mock-hurt. Draco rolled his eyes, unseen by Harry.

"Oh, I know you want me."

Harry rolled his eyes in return. "Whatever, Malfoy. How'd you get here, anyway?" Draco blushed faintly.

"My father made me go on a shopping trip with Pansy- Parkinson, to you. Anyway, she dared me to try on the silliest outfit I could find. I did so, but I hadn't managed to get my pants on yet when she cursed me. I have no idea how she got my here, but somehow, she did," he replied in a monotone voice. Harry bit his lip to keep from laughing.

Suddenly, the sounds of Draco searching through Harry's dresser stopped, followed with a gasp. "What on earth is _this,_ Potter?" he asked, astounded. Harry whipped around, already blushing. Draco was holding up a white thong that had a red stripe all around the waist band. Harry turned a vibrant red.

"Oh, that's for, er, quidditch," he muttered. Draco laughed until his sides hurt.

"Yes, because _so_ many people where thongs for _quidditch_," he said sarcastically. Harry turned even redder, if that were possible.

"It's not a thong, Malfoy, it's a jock strap, and for your information, it's a very common piece of muggle sportswear," he replied angrily. Draco just laughed, and Harry stalked out of the room, calling, "Let me know when you're dressed."

Harry was sitting on a chair in the Dursley living room when Draco came down the stairs, this time in the tightest pants Harry owned, which still managed to fall down on Draco's hips, and a black tee shirt. "Okay, Potter, where do we go from here?" he asked as imperiously as he could in ragged muggle clothing. Harry shrugged, grinning at how silly Draco looked in too-large pants.

"I was figuring we could take the underground back to where ever you were shopping. Where were you shopping?" he replied nonchalantly.

"The upper district of Diagon Alley. How are we getting there?" Draco asked, confused. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Train, Malfoy, train. Just hang on."

.-

Ten minutes of walking and Draco complaining later, they were at the train station. Draco watched guiltily as Harry used all of his savings to buy them two train tickets. "I'll pay you back for this, you know," he muttered, embarrassed. Harry sent him a grin.

"It's fine. Our train should be here in a few minutes." They went over and stood by one of the little benches, idly tapping their feet and looking around. "You want a coffee? I have some money left," Harry asked after a moment. Draco nodded his ascent and Harry scurried over to the coffee shop, leaving Draco to idly watch passersby.

When Harry returned, the train had just screeched to a stop directly in front of Draco. Harry handed Draco his coffee and a map of the London ground before stepping onboard. They handed their tickets to a conductor and took a pair of seats. While Draco sipped his coffee, Harry unfolded the map and pointed to a blue route.

"This is where we're going, and this is our stop. When they call that out, it's time for us to get off, okay?" he explained. Draco chose to ignore this. Instead, he blew the steam away from his coffee.

"This is awful brew, you know," he commented lightly, making Harry shake his head ruefully.

A moment later, a gleam entered Harry's eyes. "So, Malfoy… you never did tell me your little secret. Just who do you think is the sexiest person at Hogwarts?" he asked mischievously. Draco frowned. He could easily lie his way out of it, as he had earlier planned, but it felt awkward, after how kind Potter was being. With a blush, he muttered something unintelligible. Harry grinned and leaned in closer. "What was that? I didn't catch it," he teased. Draco scowled.

"I said you, alright?" he groused, sulking over his coffee. Harry looked taken aback, but he quickly got over it, despite the little smile that stayed in the corner of his mouth.

"Aw, how sweet. Why don't you tell me who you have a crush on, then?" he prodded. Draco's scowl deepened and he took a sip from his coffee, refusing to answer. "Come on, tell me! I won't tell anyone," Harry begged, making Draco stick his tongue out at him.

The train came to a screeching halt and Harry stood. "This is our stop," he said reluctantly. Draco stood, too, and walked toward the door.

"I can take it from here. Thanks for your help," he said coldly, stepping off the train. As he walked away, Harry shouted after him.

"Who is it?" Draco turned and smiled.

"You!"

The doors closed in front of Harry's shocked face and the train zoomed away, leaving Harry amazed and Draco with his steaming coffee, all alone on the train platform.

THE END.

Thank you, thank you. I am rather proud of this story. If you hadn't guess, the challenge was a Draco/Harry one shot in which Draco wears clogs, a parka, a cowboy hat, and _nothing else, _and Harry secretly wears thongs. I had so much fun writing this! Thank you, Paige, for the idea.

Love to all,

Beryll.


End file.
